


Cigars

by ChickenFrappe



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bartender Choi San, Bottom Choi San, Fashion Designer Song Mingi, M/M, Smoking, Spit As Lube, Top Song Mingi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-05-07 20:49:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChickenFrappe/pseuds/ChickenFrappe
Summary: Nothing like a quick fuck on a balcony.





	Cigars

 

The party going on below wasn’t anything interesting anymore. There was a trend that can’t seem to be broken no matter what happened.

Just a bunch of rich old people bragging about how rich they were. How many cars they had, how many homes they owned and how successful they are.

 

San became bored with it all. It was annoying, boring and if he had to turn down one more woman sparking in jewelry and telling him how they could change his life, he was going to jump off this building,head first into the concrete.

 

He served at this Gala, mixing drinks and giving them to drunk rich people to make them more drunk and less rich. They rotate in and out every hour. At first it was Yunho and himself, but now it’s Mark and Jungkook.

 

He leaned over the balcony,looking down at the pool meters below him,staring down into the almost artificial ocean blue hue. 

 

He enjoyed the fresh air up here. It didn’t smell like metal or mint or alcohol or a sea of bodies. It was just him, and the pool below. He had a cup of vodka with him, but he dropped it on the concrete out of spite. He didn’t exactly realize he had to clean it up until the cup shattered into millions of pieces on the concrete and some in the pool.

 

He turned his head as the silence was filled with the click of a lighter. The red flame flickering behind a large hand. Once the fire disappeared there was a long drag of the cigar between the man’s lips. 

 

He was definitely rich . Hair slicked back and all proper. A suit that was far more classy than his, and rings shining along each finger. Gold dangled from his neck and reflected the moonlight.

 

“Hey.” He spoke, voice low and deep as he expected. San turned back and stared down at the pool once again.

 

“Hi.” He replied dryly,before asking,“Why are you out here all by yourself?”

 

“I’m not by myself. You’re here, right?” The man said. He gripped the cigar between two fingers and let the puff of smoke fill the air.”I could ask you the same question.”

 

It smelt expensive. It smelt rich.

 

“Needed some air. I have about an hour before going back down there.” San ran a hand through his hair and stopped at his neck, looking at the large cigar held out to him.

“Want a hit?” The man asked. San took the cigar and took a long, well deserved drag of it, the end illuminating in a bright red, before dying out into dull ash that he let fall off of the end.” I’m Mingi.”

 

“I know who you are.” San said as smoke left his nose and mouth. The man chuckled to himself and San took a short glance at him.

 

Who doesn’t know Song Mingi?

 

A successful fashion designer who also raps as a hobby. His name was everywhere . He models his own clothes half the time and still makes billions in a week.

 

“Of course you do.”He spoke in a low voice,more of a mumble for only himself to hear.

 

“Choi San.” Mingi nodded and hummed.

 

“You’re very handsome San.”

 

“I came up here to avoid that.” San handed the cigar back to Mingi who took another drag,than passed it on again for San.

 

“I speak my mind often.”Mingi started as he blew out the smoke into the air. “ I wouldn’t mind taking you home.”

 

“I don’t go home with anyone.” San told him. He tapped the butt of the cigar and let the ashes fall down into the pool once again.

 

“Then let me fuck you here.” The sentence hung in the air. San stared out as if he wasn’t shocked by the statement. 

 

Well he wasn’t. Wouldn’t be the first time someone expressed their interest in his body alone. But his was different. Mingi wasn’t old, or going grey, he wasn’t a woman and he wasn’t offering a crazy amount of money for a one night thing.

 

San reaches down between himself and the balcony railing and loosens the belt of his black slacks.

 

“Ok.” He says, cutting his eye at Mingi and waiting for the man to make a move. He hears the jingle of an expensive belt and expensive shoes hitting the balcony floor as Mingi situated himself behind San. An expensive zipper zips down and San feels his pants being tugged down to his thighs.

 

“I don’t have a condom.” Mingi told him, pressing his fingers into his mouth and wetting them with his own saliva. He rubs them along his cock and waits for San’s reply.

 

The bartender spreads his legs a little wider and leans over with his arms under him to provide a little cushion on the cold railing.

 

“I don’t care.” He says, almost tiredly. He brings the cigar up to his lips and feels the thickness of the man behind him slowly rub against his tiny hole.

 

He moans a puff of smoke, the burn isn’t bad but it isn’t easy either. Mingi seems to be blessed and tries his best to go slow enough until he bottoms out.

 

He does, and the weight of his cock settles in San. He shifts once to straighten out his buckling knees then stares down at one pool.

 

“Good?”

 

“Good.” San nods and the Mingi drags his cock out, almost the entire length, then thrusts it back into San. He nearly knocks the breath out of the small bartender. 

 

He has the decency to go slow enough for San to adjust. He’s aware of his size, and that could’ve been a good thing or a bad thing. Luckily for San, it’s a good thing.

 

He hasn’t bragged about it, Which is good.

 

Mingi bites into his bottom lip and picks up the pace a little. His stomach fluttering when San let’s out the sweetest, strangled moan to ever exist.He wants to keep hearing moans like that. A mix between cute and absolutely sexy that makes Mingi grunt.

 

Cold rings grip San’s waist but he barely noticed them. It’s numb, everything except for the rising pleasure that forms in his core. His breath hitches and he almost drops the cigar at a particularly hard thrust Mingi delivers.

 

He’s breathing hard at this point, sucking in the cigar and whimpering out smoke. It’s dangerous, filling and relaxing.

 

San has been stressed. He’s attended four Galas but they’ve always stressed him. He has to be perfect. He has to mix perfect, pour perfect, serve perfect, talk perfect, look perfect and even make perfect mistakes. He has spilled wine on one of the crisp white shirts earlier and had to change perfectly in the back.

 

But right now all he had to do was puff a cigar and let the man behind him do the work. 

 

Mingi was used to relaxing. As a fashion designer and a perfect model who was born perfect, he didn’t stress over crowds or making clothes.

 

He made clothes when he wanted to, which led to surprising people waiting for unknown new releases that they were never informed about.

 

San gripped the railing and held the cigar in the other hand between his fingers. A blush creeped up his neck and he could barely think about the floor below him. 

 

He moaned high as the pressure built up on his stomach, cold rings now hot and humid against his skin. He willed himself to take another drag and let the smoke escape through his nose as he held back the sinful sounds that threatened to spill from his lips. 

 

Mingi  wrapped his large hand around San’s cock and stroked him to his feverish, needy thrusts.

 

All of a sudden, San felt it. The breeze of the wind blowing, the warm air being huffed into his neck, rough fingers gripping his hip and the harsh burn of the cigar ashes dropping onto his hand.

 

He came hard and let out a deep breaths as every thing that just came to him disappeared. He was numb once again, blinded by stars and only registered that he was still awake when he felt the warm come shooting inside of him and dripping out in small droplets on his thighs.

 

Mingi gave a few more teasing thrusts to push his come deeper into the bartender. He let his dick slip out of San, limp and white with come.

 

San’s eyes rolled back as he took another deep drag from the cigar and blew it out into the crisp air.

 

Fuck, this cigar was good. Warmed his insides and made him feel like a hot shot for about 10 minutes. Mingi took it from behind him to San’s dismay, but he found it back between his fingers after Mingi has his share.

 

“Thanks.” San said quietly, voice just a little hoarse from straining it.” Needed that.”

 

“Same.” Mingi tucked himself back in his pants and helped San fix himself. No use cleaning up when there was nothing to clean up with.

 

Mingi reaches into his pocket and placed a card and the same cigar in San’s hand.”Give me a call sometime, thats my personal number. I always answer.”

 

San nodded and tucked the card and cigar away safely in his own pocket.”Will do.”

 

“I’m gonna head back down. Maybe’ll go home and sleep.”

 

“I’ll go home with you. I’m fucking tired.”

 

“You do know if you come to my place I might fuck you again, right?”

 

“I wouldn’t mind.” San shrugged and threw the short remains of the cigar into the pool below.

 

                          *


End file.
